Touch
by VGWrighte
Summary: First Lieutenant Samantha Carter loves her new job and her fiance, Jonas Hansen. Sure, he's got some idiosyncrasies, but so does everyone, right? A story about how and why Sam left Jonas. Completed.
1. Chapter 1

Touch

Chapter 1

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Set approximately 2 years prior to "Children of the Gods." Tagged to "The First Commandment."

- . - - - . -

First Lieutenant Samantha Carter was on top of the world. She had just settled into her new job in the Air Force Research Laboratory in Washington, DC. She was also settling into her new promotion. Her silver bars were a little lighter than the gold ones she had worn since her commissioning. The silver came with just a little bit of experience and a general clue about how the world worked, and the Air Force within it.

She was good at her job. She was good at the researching, at the calculating, at the proving, and at the team leading. She loved the people she worked with.

She also loved her boyfriend. Pause - giggle. Fiancé, actually, now. They were going to get married.

He had proposed to her about two months before she got notification of her new position. Since they were already engaged, they decided she should just move in with him when she got to Washington. He had been there for a year already, after all. There was no reason for her to get her own place if she was only going to live it in six months or so.

Sure, he had some idiosyncrasies about their apartment. But she had some too, she was sure. And it really was little things she would eventually get used to, like not letting pans soak in the sink for longer than a few hours, or refolding the hand towels in the bathroom and hanging from the oven every time they were used, or putting all the silverware away "correctly" in the drawer.

They were just little things, and she loved him in spite of them.

She smiled to herself as she dug her keys out of her purse. Growing up, especially after her mother died, she had been unsure that she was pretty enough, or desirable enough, or normal enough for a normal relationship. And now she had one, with Jonas, and she was so happy.

She let herself into their apartment and put her keys in the bowl on the table - another one of Jonas' "systems." She preferred to have them on a rack next to the door, but he had qualms about putting "unnecessary" holes in the wall. It had been a minor argument, but she conceded, as it just wasn't that important to her.

She toed off her Oxfords and pushed them into the closet, in their "assigned spot" and took off her jacket, dropping it over a chair. She went into the kitchen and opened the freezer, trying to decide what to make for dinner. She wasn't all that hungry, but Jonas liked to eat a little earlier than she did. She frowned at what she saw and turned to the fridge, instead. A package of pork chops was thawing in the fridge, Jonas must've set them there this morning.

Sam sighed. Pork chops it was. She got them out and started preparing them, pulling a can of green beans from the pantry and the bag of fresh carrots from the veggie drawer in the fridge.

"Sam," she heard Jonas say. She frowned to herself, it was his slightly condescending something's-not-quite-right-Baby voice. "You've gotta put your uniform jacket away," he said, walking into the kitchen holding her jacket by the collar.

"I would've. I just wanted to start dinner first," she told him.

He smiled at her, his I-know-you're-trying-as-hard-as-you-can smile. "Thanks for making dinner," he said sweetly.

She smiled at him.

He smiled back.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied, taking a few more steps into the kitchen to be next to her. He leaned in and kissed her sweetly. "How was work today?"

She started to tell him about work, noticing that he hung her jacket on a door knob and grabbed and apron. She stepped back from the stove long enough for him to put the apron around her. The gesture made her pause. He was so thoughtful.

When she came to a pause in her story, he left the room, taking her jacket with him. She shook her head to herself. She didn't like how sometimes he acted like she couldn't take care of her own things and therefore took care of them for her. She knew he didn't mean it, but just wanted to take care of her. She did like that.

Later that evening he helped her clean up the dishes, which was unusual, but welcome. Once everything in the kitchen was cleaned up, he started kissing her, and moving his hands over her body. She returned the kiss with a smile. She liked how much he wanted her, how much he needed her. The way he touched her made up for all the idiosyncrasies, the annoyances, and the condescension. The way he touched her made her love him all the more.

- . - TBC - . -


	2. Chapter 2

Touch

Chapter 2

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

- . - - - . - Several Weeks Later

Sam was stressed out. Her work was stressful. Her coworkers were stressful. Her boss was stressful. And - to make things worse - Jonas was starting to be stressful. Right now he just couldn't get it through his thick skull that she was working long hours and just didn't have the energy to make a real dinner every night. And when she had suggested that he could attempt to pull his own weight and make dinner once in a blue moon, it had started a huge argument and she had slept in the guest bedroom.

She had slept in the guest bedroom for two nights. When Jonas was angry, he could stay angry for a while. But on the third night, he came into the room, sat on the side of the bed and apologized for not being more sensitive to her mood and her stresses at work. They went to bed together that night and things were okay for the better part of a week.

Then Jonas started losing his patience again.

They fought again. He told her that he was sick and tired of her bringing home a bad attitude. He was sick and tired of her bringing her stress home and ruining his evenings.

"I'm not bringing my stress home to ruin your evening, Jonas!"she had shouted back. "I'm bringing my stress home so my fiancé can help lower my stress levels, not raise them!"

She had slept in the guest bedroom that night, and the next night, and the next night - which was last night.

She really wasn't looking forward to an evening spent in a harsh silence. She wanted to plop down on the couch with a good book and then fall asleep in Jonas' strong, comforting arms. She didn't even think she wanted dinner.

She dug her keys out of her purse and entered their apartment. She toed off her Oxfords and put them in their spot in the closet and dropped her keys in the bowl. She started to head straight to their bedroom to change into some comfortable clothes, but was stopped dead in her tracks in the dinning room. The lights were down, and the room lit by several candles. A meal sat prepared on the table and two glasses of wine were poured.

Jonas stood next to his chair in a pair of blue jeans and a plain blue t-shirt.

Her heart melted and she walked into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about our fight," he told her.

"Me too," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Why don't you go put some PJs on and then we can have a nice quiet dinner?"

"Oh, Jonas, I would love to, but I'm just not hungry. How about you come to bed with me?"

"Please," he said. "I went to all this trouble. Just eat a little and have some wine."

He had such a puppy dog look on his face, she couldn't say no. "Alright."

She changed and they ate together. She wasn't all that hungry, but she ate a little. They then went to bed and he let her cuddle next to him while they both read before falling asleep.

While drifting off to sleep, Sam thought of how lucky she was and how great Jonas was.

- . -

Sam slammed the apartment door behind her. She was still angry. Even after her long commute, she was still angry. Heck, she was probably angrier now than she was when she had left work. She just couldn't believe how Lieutenant Connors just threw her under the bus like that. "Yes, Sir," he had said to Colonel Jones, their mutual boss, "We'd have those figures if Carter's team had actually made their deadlines."

Of course, no one told Colonel Jones that the deadlines hadn't been met because three of the tests they had needed to run were run late because the facility had been double booked and the processing time on the computers had already been divvied out and they missed their scheduled time on the processors because they had run their tests late. All of this she had submitted in writing after getting the numbers from Lockheed to Connors.

But did Connors use the Lockheed numbers? No, of course not. Why? Because they weren't formatted correctly and therefore would've taken too many man hours to reformat and correct.

She was so angry she could cry.

Sam kicked off her shoes, leaving them in the hall and threw her keys onto the table, not even trying to get them in the bowl. She pulled off her jacket and tossed it onto the back of the couch. She started to head to their bedroom to change (and perhaps hit something) when Jonas came out of the den.

"Hey, Baby, what's wrong?"

"Oh," she turned sharply, raising her hands in frustration. "I don't even know where to start!"

Before she actually could start, he spoke, "I'm sure it's not enough reason to trash the place by leaving your stuff all over."

She dropped her hands and blinked. "What?"

"Baby, I know you're frustrated, but you have to take care of your things."

She just stared at him in disbelief. "I can't even decide if I want to fight with you about this."

"Why do we need to fight about it? You know the rules in this house, we put our things away, no matter how upset or emotional we are."

"Rules? Emotional?" she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I'm not a child, Jonas!"

He took a few steps closer to her. "Then stop acting like one."

"Are you kidding me?" she was shocked. "I don't have the patience for this right now."

She turned to walk away, leaving her things where she dropped them in anger. She changed out of her uniform and threw some lounging clothes on and returned to the living room where she dropped on the couch and picked up the remote. She started flicking through television she was too angry to watch. She had noticed that Jonas had hung up her jacket on the back of a chair - most likely for her to pick up later.

"Baby, you gonna make dinner?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I'm not hungry, Jonas. You're gonna have to make your own dinner tonight."

"Sam," he said in a warning tone. "Come on, now."

"Jonas, I'm not gonna eat tonight. Fend for yourself. You're a big boy."

He came around in front of the couch, between her and the TV. "You know, I'm getting kind of sick of this," he said harshly.

"Yeah, me too," she shot back.

"You were stressed out, so I made you a nice dinner last night and this is how you repay me?"

"Repay you?! I make you dinner every night and after you make me dinner ONCE: I OWE YOU?!"

"All I ask is that you make dinner!"

"ALL THAT YOU ASK?!"

"Why are you being such a bitch about this?"

"A BITCH?!" she jumped to her feet. "I think I'm entitled to not make you dinner a couple times because I'm stressed out from work. There is no reason that I need to be doing all the work in this house!"

"All the work? I am constantly reminding you to do everything! Put your shoes away! Put your keys away! Keep the towels neat! Wipe down the counters! Every little damn thing!"

"Every little damn thing that are your rules! The world isn't going to end if I don't put my keys in the damn bowl once!

"These rules exist to make our lives better! Do you want to live in a little hole in the wall? Do you want to live in a little flee-bitten shoe box? No?!"

"No, Jonas! But just because I'm not as anal-retentive about all this as you doesn't mean that I can't take care of a house. And just because you're all anal-retentive about dinner doesn't mean you can't make it for yourself! I mean, God! You think I'M a child?! Everything has to be your way!"

"Sam-" he tried to stop her, but she continued.

"Every little damn thing! You wouldn't even let me put a rack on the wall for keys. A key rack, that's all I wanted!"

"Sam-" he tried again, raising his voice this time.

"And sometimes I want to come home after a long, hard day of work and not do anything! I don't want to have to spend another half and hour on my feet cooking a dinner that I don't even want to eat yet!

"SAM!"

"And would it kill you to wash the dishes?! I don't think it's too much to ask for you to wash the dishes! Even little kids can wash the dishes!"

"Listen to me!" he shouted.

"No!" she shouted back. "You listen to me! I am sick of being the subservient one in this relationship!"

"Would you just shut up for one second!?"

"Why? So you can come up with more rules?! How about this for a rule -"

SLAP.

His open hand belted across her face, snapping her head to the side. She looked up at him immediately, fuming. He had similar expression, anger and wrath.

She took a moment to compose herself, glaring at him. "Go ahead," she said in a steely voice. "Do it again," she dared him. "See what happens."

They stared at each other for a moment. Sam didn't back down. She would never back down now.

"Go ahead," she goaded him again. "Hit me again."

Her words broke his concentration. He looked at her in horror of what he had done. He reached gently for her. She took two steps back quickly, keeping out of his reach. "Don't touch me."

"Baby, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she asked.

"For hit . . . For hitting you. I should've never . . ."

"No. You're sorry that I didn't drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness."

"Sam," he pleaded.

She walked away from him, towards the bedroom.

He followed her. "Sam," he pleaded again. "Sam, what are you doing. We're not done. We need to talk."

She shot a glare at him as she grabbed a suit case. "No, we were done talking when you decided to hit me."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Away from you." She paused packing long enough to pull the engagement ring off her finger and drop it on the bed.

"Sam," a little anger crept back into his voice. He grabbed her wrist.

She looked up again glared at him again. "Do NOT touch me."

He released her. "Sam, think about this."

"I should've done this a long time ago," she said. She grabbed a few of her uniform items and put them in a garment bag. She carried the bags out, heading for the front door.

"Sam!"

"I'll be back for the rest of my things this weekend. I don't want to see you again."

"Sam, don't go! I love you."

She paused in the hallway before the door, picking up her Oxfords and her keys. "You should've thought of that before you hit me."

She left.

Sam got in her car and started driving. She made it about four blocks before she had to turn into a parking lot because she couldn't see through her tears. Once, his touch had told her how much he loved her. Now all it told her was how wrong she was, how he only wanted to own her.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and got back on the road.

She didn't need him. She was going to move on and one day she was going to find a guy who worshipped the ground she walked on. She was going to find a guy who was in constant awe about how beautiful and smart she was. She was going to find a guy who respected her work. She was going to find a guy who was easy going and care free. A guy who could listen to her and hold her tight when she needed something. A guy who would be able to tell by the look on her face that she needed to be held. A guy who would whisper "Com'ere" and hold her until the tears were gone.

She was going to find him. No matter how long it took, she wasn't going to settle. She was too good to settle.

She sighed and set a determined look on her face.

She was First Lieutenant Samantha Carter and she was never going to settle again.

- . - FIN - . -


End file.
